Greg Cooper pulls his wife Shauna Paisley Cooper, with the help of human ecology student Holly Postma, on a trail riding excursion through the river valley from Emily Murphy Park. The event is organized by the Human Ecology Students Association, the Canadian Paraplegic Association and Alberta Abilities Lodges on Jan. 23, 2012 in Edmonton.Greg Southam
/ Edmonton Journal

Shauna Paisley Cooper at Rabbit Hill, a year after she crashed her bicycle and broke her neck.
/ Supplied

It was May 27, a beautiful spring evening at a Devon bicycle park and the twins’ mother, Shauna Paisley Cooper, and father, Greg Cooper, cheered their seven-year-old daughters’ first mountain bike race and, perhaps more important, their inheritance — a family love of cycling.

“I’ve never been as proud of them as I was that night. They were so confident, standing on that podium. I could see so much self-esteem,” says Paisley Cooper.

They were competitors 552 and 553 in the Little Rippers category. They whipped twice around the course with 13 other riders, taking tight corners and zooming down hills. Greg ventured into the trees that lined the race course to watch his daughters while Paisley Cooper sat with a crowd near the finish line.

Once an obsessive mountain biker herself and fiercely competitive, Paisley Cooper was elated when Kyra crossed the finish line, first among the female riders.

She moved the joystick on the electric wheelchair that has afforded her movement for the past six years, and went to congratulate her daughter.

---

On July 13, 2008, Paisley Cooper was flying down Rabbit Hill, training for a mountain bike trip to British Columbia with her husband and friends. She had spent two glorious hours biking on the sun-drenched hill when she rode toward an obstacle. The jump had an “out,” an option to ride around it on a smooth trail. But by the time Paisley Cooper realized she didn’t want to take the jump, it was too late — she braked and braked and braked, but couldn’t stop in time.

She launched into the air and landed on her head. The bike fell on top of her and, at the time, she couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t move it off.

Imagine a figure standing with each arm extended to the side and draw a line from the tip of one thumb to the tip of the other. That’s the dividing line for Paisley Cooper between sensation and nothing. She has no feeling beneath her nipples. While she can use her biceps, she has limited strength in her triceps. Her fingers are paralyzed, but she can move her wrists.

The athlete, wife, 34-year-old mother of toddler twins had lost control of her legs, bowels, the ability to sweat.

I met Paisley Cooper two months after the accident at the Glenrose Rehabilitation Hospital. She has shiny brown hair, a wide smile, and a dry sense of humour. At the Glenrose, she was gaining strength and skills, learning to master basic movements as a quadriplegic.

Greg and the twins would come to the Glenrose every afternoon to visit and play. The toddlers would bring their mom exercise balls and catch rides on her wheelchair. When it was time to say goodbye, they climbed onto Paisley Cooper’s lap to give her hugs and kisses. Of course, they didn’t understand the enormity of what had happened and, in many ways, they still don’t.

“I don’t want my daughters to grow up and say, ‘I missed out on this because my mom was in a wheelchair,’” she says.

---

Paisley Cooper was always an athlete. At six years old, she raced her shiny red bike around the block and asked her mom to time her. She once hit a car in the back alley, hopped back on the bike and tore around the block even faster to beat her time.

She played soccer for 25 years and, before the twins were born, she and Greg spent their holidays mountain biking. Those vacations gave her the satisfaction of knowing she could propel herself to amazing heights, and an adrenalin rush she describes as addictive. She loved working out, being on a team, and being competitive.

“My identity prior to my injury was as a strong athlete. I’d call myself an athlete first. And I can’t identify myself as an athlete anymore. I identify myself as a stay-at-home mom,” says Paisley Cooper, now 40. “My life is cut in two segments, my first 35 years and my next 35 years.”

The daily routine for a stay-at-home mom — in a wheelchair or not — has a hectic rhythm. For Paisley Cooper, the day starts when a caregiver arrives at 6 a.m. to help her out of bed, into the shower, and through physiotherapy. Paisley Cooper does her hair and makeup while the caregiver preps the family’s dinner and packs lunches for the girls. The caregiver returns in the evening to get Paisley Cooper into bed.

While Greg pitches in, staff at the Glenrose taught him to separate the roles of caregiver and husband.

Still, it was Greg, a pipefitter whose friendly smile comes easily, who went househunting after the accident to find one that could be made wheelchair accessible. It was Greg who kept a witty and informative blog for family and friends while his wife was in rehab. Greg ordered a custom sticker decal for their minivan, which shows a woman in a wheelchair accompanying the stickers of two young girls, a dad, and a cat.

A good attitude can make a difference in their lives, but so can technology.

Paisley Cooper keeps an iPad with her at almost all times, as she can type quite easily on the monitor. The couple customized their minivan two years ago so Paisley Cooper can wheel herself to the steering wheel without assistance (she and her daughters recently drove to Kelowna for a holiday without Greg). And this spring she had a colostomy bag inserted, eliminating the need to spend two hours in the bathroom each morning waiting for a bowel movement.

It’s a long way from her first days at home after six months at the Glenrose — an environment where she was getting better every day, and doctors and physiotherapists and psychologists were always available for advice and encouragement. It felt like a newborn had come home and the couple “barely knew how to change diapers.”

Paisley Cooper soon fell into a deep, deep depression. It took months before she woke up one morning and said, “This is stupid. If I’m going to be here, I’m going to be engaged.”

Almost six years later, she calls herself an ordinary soccer mom. Greg interjects: “You’re not a regular soccer mom. You’re one of the crazies.”

The residential cul-de-sac in Spruce Grove where the Cooper family lives is idyllic. Kids wheel through the neighbourhood on bicycles, families play basketball at driveway hoops, and street hockey games take over on summer nights.

Paisley Cooper expects her children to move their legs even if she can’t move hers. The twins ride their bikes to the local pool for swimming lessons while Paisley Cooper wheels alongside in her wheelchair. They do gymnastics, play ringette, and ride a zip line into the water at their favourite lake. On a recent July night, they were doing cartwheels in the driveway and perching on the edge of their mom’s hand-cranked bike.

Would it ever have been possible to stop these girls from riding bikes? Of course not. They got on two wheels, like most kids, at about three years old.

A few years later, when some boys set up jumps in the cul-de-sac, their mom said, “No.”

But as the twins got older, it became clear they didn’t just like riding bikes. They were good at it. When a friend suggested this spring the girls take a course through the Devon Mountain Biking Association, Greg was excited — he had long wanted to hit the trails again with his family. Paisley Cooper was “apprehensively excited” and she let them go.

The course taught the basics: how to ride over a log, how to shift gears properly, how to brake on a steep hill.

“I saw them doing so well. I thought, ‘This is so good, that they can enjoy riding as much as I did.’”

---

The year after her accident, Paisley Cooper returned to Rabbit Hill.

She took a picture at the base of the grassy slope where she fell. The wooden obstacle that caused the crash had been removed; a rolling expanse of green takes up the bulk of the photograph. Seated in her wheelchair, she appears pretty, peaceful, pensive.

“I have to stay away from the internal dialogue of, ‘Why did I go down that trail? Why did I go down that trail? Why did I go down that trail?’ Because there’s no answer.”

When she was first in rehab at the Glenrose, Paisley Cooper asked her psychologist: Would she let her daughters ride bikes?

Now, the girls are preparing for their second mountain bike race. Like any mom, she worries. But not every mom has gone through a traumatic, life-changing experience on a bicycle. The psychologist at the Glenrose told her it’s her job to teach the twins about the risks of mountain biking and how to do it with skill.

“I feel really good that their skill is good, that they can do it. I have to trust that they’re going to be taken care of because I’ve given them the skills and I’ve seen that they can do it and I just have to let it go.”

Before they head out, she always says, “Be safe.” And they always reply, “Mom, don’t worry.”

---

On a family camping trip to Cold Lake this summer, Paisley Cooper donned a life-jacket and sat in the middle of a giant inner tube being towed behind the family boat. There’s a photograph of her in the water, beaming. Since becoming quadriplegic, she hasn’t enjoyed swimming. But tubing? She loves it.

Comments

We encourage all readers to share their views on our articles and blog posts. We are committed to maintaining a lively but civil forum for discussion, so we ask you to avoid personal attacks, and please keep your comments relevant and respectful. If you encounter a comment that is abusive, click the "X" in the upper right corner of the comment box to report spam or abuse. We are using Facebook commenting. Visit our FAQ page for more information.

Almost Done!

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Postmedia to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Postmedia to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.